


Decide (who lives and who dies?)

by DarlingNikki



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will Graham, Dubious Consent, Happy Ending, M/M, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingNikki/pseuds/DarlingNikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the scene with Hannibal and Will standing over Abigail's bloodstain had went very differently in the show? What if Will had seen, but done things differently?</p><p>Written for Hannibal Exchange 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decide (who lives and who dies?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basserandstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basserandstuff/gifts).



> This was written for the Hannibal Exchange 2013 for Basserandstuff. Unbeta'd. Written in the span of four hours in one gigantic burst of inspiration that kinda flowed like a car wreak. This was so much fun to write.

It has come down to this. Two people opposed in a room that was both a beginning and now will be an end.

 

Will holds the gun steady and just allows himself to think clearly.

 

When Will closes his eyes, its easy to imagine a different outcome than her and now. They are poised on the edge of a change, a wave cresting ready to crash down and bring their fragile sandcastles down with it. Will wishes he could save moments, hide them somewhere deep inside himself where nothing can harm them, where he can think of them whenever he needs to hold his head high.

 

He thinks last week would be a night he would save forever, like a fly caught in amber, suspended in the ether. He was over at Hannibal's house; it was a quiet night. A storm rolled in, disturbing the quiet with it's sound and fury, but it was magnificent. Hannibal and Will sat silently on a couch looking through a window, watching the lightning flash and listening to the booms of the thunder. They didn't need to say a word, they didn't need to say a single thing. They just sat, in a perfect moment, with Will's feet tucked against Hannibal's thigh.

 

Will wishes he was back in that time.

 

But Will can not go back in time, and a reckoning is here. Stranding on a stain, that Will had thought he'd prevented. A stain that he had thought, for a while, that he had created. He know now. The scales have fallen from his eyes, and now he sees.

 

Hannibal is nothing but a thin veneer of humanity stretched over empty places, filled with the buzzing of flies and the sickly scent of rot. Each time he held his hand out to help Will up, it was only to hide the other palm gently slipping a blade between Will's exposed ribs.

 

He slowly, methodically carved pieces from Will, and Will is so changed by their friendship that he isn't sure what parts of him Hannibal has transmuted or what parts where there all along, biding their time beneath the surface.

 

All Will really knows now, is that he wants to show Hannibal the mess he has made of Will's psyche, the jagged edges and frayed ends. All Will really wants is to make Hannibal face the changes he has wrought, rub his face into the sharp wreckage of Will's self.

 

Hannibal speaks, drawing Will's attention back, “Perhaps you didn't come here to find a killer. Perhaps you came here to find yourself.” He is so very calm, so very focused on watching Will, waiting to see what he will do here.

 

Will shakes his head, frowning, “How am I supposed to know myself anymore, with what you've done? There is nothing stable anymore.”

 

“You could follow the urges you've kept down for so long. Cultivate them as the inspirations that they are. You would become someone other than yourself. You would not be alone anymore.” Hannibal must sound like the Devil when he tempted Jesus in that moment. Smooth. Confident. Assured in his own self.

 

Tempting.

 

So very tempting, Hannibal knows how to wield the truth like a blade. He knows the sharper it is, the more it cuts you up. Will knows how easy it would be to give in, to live like Hannibal, with Hannibal. How freeing it would feel to let go of the heavy weight of his morality holding him down.

 

Will is not like that though. So he responds, “I know who I am.” With that, Will moves quickly, dropping the gun, pushing Hannibal to the ground. Hannibal lets him. Even falling backwards, he is graceful, and Will follows his trajectory down. He crashes into Hannibal, smashing his lips into Hannibal. Running his tongue along the seam of Hannibal's lips, demanding entry, and Hannibal obliging smirking while allowing him inside.

 

Tongues meet. This is not a prayer; this is a scream born of a prolonged derangement.

 

This is blasphemy. This is filth. Will slides his tongue in and out of Hannibal's mouth like he is fucking it instead. Utterly controlling the velocity of the kiss. Taking what he needs now to ease the ache that has grown in his chest, filling the empty spots with an emotion he can understand.

 

Hannibal groans and shifts, grinding up against Will. Will growls ferally and sinks his teeth into Hannibal's bottom lip until he tastes blood metallic against his taste buds. He laps at the tiny wounds before sliding lower nipping at his pulse on his way to mouth over Hannibal's collar. His hands frantically scramble to undo Hannibal's shirt's buttons, but he is rapidly frustrated and instead rips baring Hannibal's chest.

 

Will's mouth continues it's decent. Licking, sucking, biting, he leaves a trail of saliva messily across Hannibal's body like he is raining down fire and brimstone instead of caresses. Like his mouth could slice Hannibal like Hannibal had sliced up Will's insides. Will licks a long line across Hannibal's abdomen tracing an incision seen on one of his other victims. The girl was missing her stomach when her body was found. Hannibal had probably made haggis that night.

 

Fumbling Will undoes Hannibal's slacks, raising up so he can force them down, to rest around Hannibal's ankles. Will ignores Hannibal's cock, as it lies swollen and engorged against Hannibal's thigh. Instead he bites into the meat of Hannibal's thigh, drawing more blood before he kisses it away. He thrusts his head between Hannibal's thighs, forcing them to spread apart.

 

His mouth latches on to Hannibal's hole, thrusting his tongue past the tight ring of muscles before withdrawing and jack hammering back in. Wet slurps and crude moans are the only sounds being made in that room. Somehow they had even managed to land directly on the dark bloodstain ruining the homey kitchen. Will brings two fingers up to Hannibal's now sloppy hole and steadily pushes them in along with his tongue. Pulling his face up, he watches Hannibal as he grinds himself into the fingers, grunting when Will then quickly adds another finger scissoring them; spreading Hannibal's hole wide open.

 

Will moves his body between Hannibal's thighs and then pulls his own member from the confines of his jeans. Hannibal's eyes open, and he catches Will's gaze. He is doing nothing, but allowing Will to take. His eyes are dark and demanding though. Will averts his eyes, and instead takes his cock in hand and moves the tip of it to rest against Hannibal's now red hole. He looks at a point on Hannibal's chest as he steadily pushes in.

 

It burns, no lube, not enough prep work, but Will feels brand new in this moment. This is a moment he would save.

 

He bottoms out and pauses, just resting and catching his breath for a second before he slides back out. He pulls almost the entire way out, until only the tip is still inside, before snapping his hips roughly pushing until he is fully inside of Hannibal's channel again. One of his hands moves to grip Hannibal's erection and begins to harshly jerk in counterpoint to the punishing rhythm he is setting with his thrusts. With each move Hannibal's soft groans grow unhindered into harsh moans, his body jerks with each movement of Will's body. Will is panting heavily, but his rhythm never falters. In. Out.

 

He thrusts like he is trying to rip Hannibal apart.

 

He thrusts like he is trying to make Hannibal as wrecked as him.

 

In then out, taking Hannibal a piece one brutal thrust at a time.

 

Will's thrusting starts to falter, he stutters in and out as Hannibal's muscles clench tightly around his cock like heated velvet. Hannibal's release is on Hannibal's suit and stomach and Will twists his eyes closed blocking out the sight of Hannibal speared open beneath him utterly debauched. Will grunts as he cums, cock twitching inside Hannibal as spurts of his cum fill Hannibal. After his release is completely drained inside Hannibal, Will's body sags and he falls against Hannibal's chest heedless of mess and ruin.

 

Hannibal finally moves, and his hand catches Will's chin, so he can tilt it up so that Will has to look into his eyes. “And who are you now?”

 

Will growls again, and pulls out so he can slide up to angrily kiss at Hannibal's lips again.

 

He pulls back after a moment and says, “I'm yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: PinkGlitteryGoth.


End file.
